


Love and Comfort, Sex and Wondering If This Could Be Our Turn

by AquaWolfGirl



Series: Aqua's One Shots [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: College AU, F/M, I'm a sucker for this trope honestly, Tooth-rotting Smut/Fluff, Virginity Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWolfGirl/pseuds/AquaWolfGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous Prompt: Ben and Rey are in college and best friends, and very much in love, they just don't realize it. Rey is tired of people making jokes about her being a virgin, so she asks Ben to help her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Comfort, Sex and Wondering If This Could Be Our Turn

**Author's Note:**

> It's literally been years since I wrote straight smut without an RP partner. I think everything's in the right place, but I honestly have no idea what the fuck I'm doing so there's that. Good luck!

She didn’t let things get to her, often. It just wasn’t her. She took shit and gave it right back just as easily - perhaps a bit too easily, depending on to whom she was talking. But this … this was absolutely ridiculous.

Virginity’s a societal problem. That’s what she convinced herself, two days into the teasing. It doesn’t matter another if person’s been between your legs as long as you’re comfortable. It’s a societal problem, not a problem with her. 

But apparently, people think differently. 

“Hey, been laid yet?” 

“I’d be happy to offer my services, if you want to get it over with.” 

“Honestly, with a body like that, I thought you would’ve lost it a while ago.” 

The comments kept coming, mostly from the men - no, not men, boys - in her classes. She refused to acknowledge any of those ignorant, sloppy assholes as men. She held her head high through most of them, knocking down their offers left and right. 

The girls were somewhat better. But even nice, reassuring comments were still comments, and after 5 days of vague posts about her on YikYak and people talking behind her back she’s ready to lie and say she slept with 100 people just to get them off of her back. Only thing is, she’s pretty sure that the comments won’t stop, and then there will be questions as to who it was with, and she really doesn’t want to deal with the aftermath of that.  
Ben’s door’s unlocked, as per usual. She opens it and storms in, dropping her backpack and moving immediately towards his bed. She launches herself onto it with a soft ‘whomp’, spread eagle. And then she screams as loudly as she can into his comforter. 

“Is there a reason you’re screaming into my bed?” 

She turns, resting her cheek on his bed and looking out at him. He’s sitting at his desk against the window, his glasses abandoned next to him and laptop showing a Word document full of black type. He hasn’t turned to face her, fingers still flying across the keyboard. 

“People.” 

“Any specific person?” he asks, turning in his chair. He crosses one incredibly long leg over the other, a pale ankle resting on his knee. He’s not wearing shoes, or socks, just grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, Darth Vader’s face faded after several dozen washes. 

“All the people.” She’s turned her head back to his bed and mutters it into his blankets. 

He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his legs. “Is this that virginity thing again?” 

Not for the first time, she’s incredibly grateful the man doesn’t have a roommate as she screams into the bedspread again. “YES!” 

“Don’t let it get to you.” 

“I’m not!” It’s growled into the mattress. 

“Considering you’re currently screaming into my bed, I’d say it’s getting to you a little bit.” 

She sighs, sitting up reluctantly. She arranges herself so that she’s sitting crosslegged on his bed, and picks at a stone stuck in the bottom of her sneaker. “I just want them to shut up,” she admits. “It’s a stupid thing. Who cares if I haven’t had sex yet? I don’t have the time for it. I don’t know how they do.” 

“Because, unlike you, they care little for grades and more for pleasure,” Ben explains, pushing himself off of the desk so that he sails across the room. The wheels of the chair scrape against the wood of his room, but he pays the sound no mind as he settles in front of her. “According to society, you’re either a slut or a saint. There doesn’t seem to be an in between.” 

She groans, letting herself lean back against the wall. Her head falls back with a soft ’thwack’ against a Starkiller band poster. 

“Have you gotten any more offers to defile you?” he asks, leaning forward so that he’s leaning on the mattress.

“Unfortunately,” she mutters. “They don’t let up.” 

He hums softly, reaching out to run his thumb along her ankle. She sighs. His fingers are cold but comforting, and she lets it happen. “Men are downright assholes.” 

She laughs at that, looking down at him. “You’re not an asshole.” 

“You haven’t seen me in the morning, then.” 

One foot kicks out to kick lightly at his shoulder. “Jerk. I have seen you in the morning, you’re fine.” 

“You’ve seen me after I’ve had my coffee. There’s a difference.” But his tone is light, and joking, and he grabs her foot in retaliation. Her shoe’s off and clunking to the ground before she can think properly, and then he’s tickling her and she’s shrieking and almost falling off of the bed. 

“BEN! BEN, STOP!” 

He’s relentless, holding tight to her ankle and wiggling his fingertips along her socked foot. She kicks him square in the chest and he grunts, letting go of her. She laughs as he bends over, trying to catch his breath at the same time she’s trying to catch hers. 

“Bitch,” he mutters, and she just grins. 

“Ass,” she says in response. He doesn’t deny it, straightening once his lungs have recovered. 

“Why don’t you lie?” he questions, standing out of the chair. Even though she’s on the elevated bed, the frame a good three feet above ground for storage underneath, he still towers over her. “Tell them you lost it to some nameless guy in a club over the weekend.” 

“Because then certain people will question me and not let up until I give them every single detail I possibly can, and I’m not that good of a liar,” she explains, thinking about two people in particular. She loves Finn and Poe dearly, but they’ve been like helicopter parents the past few days, texting her constantly to see how she was taking the unwanted attention. If she lied to them, she’d never hear the end of it. 

“No, you’re not,” Ben admits, climbing onto the bed to sit next to her. They lean back against the wall, heads against his band posters. Eventually she slides sideways so that she’s against his side, her head falling to rest on his shoulder. Though his fingers were cold, his body’s warm, and she takes comfort in the smell of the cologne that he’s worn since middle school. Though four years her senior, he’d been held back due to disruptive activities and ended up in 8th while she was in 6th. By the end of the year, he’d cleaned up his act and dropped his ‘emo’ phase, thanks to her guidance and assurance that he doesn’t need to wear black and spikes to look intimidating. He’d never looked intimidating, if she was completely honest - more adorably awkward - but she wasn’t about to tell him that. 

She lets her eyes drift closed, and she feels him lower his shoulder ever so slightly so that she’s a bit more comfortable. “I just wish it wasn’t such a big deal,” she mutters softly. “So what - I haven’t been fucked. Is it really that important? I’m not saving myself for anybody, I haven’t promised myself to God, I’m not waiting for my wedding night or anything like that. I just haven’t wanted to.” 

She lifts her head when Ben shrugs. “People are jerks.” 

Rey snorts, returning her head to his shoulder when he’s finished shrugging. 

His hand moves towards her knee, thumb rubbing her tan skin through one of the well-earned rips in the denim. She hums, leaning into him just a bit more and letting her eyes slip shut again. His touch is comforting, always has been. He wasn’t one for affection when she met him, visibly flinching whenever she touched him. It took him six months to accept a hug, nine to let her rest her head on his shoulder. But now he’s touching her seemingly all the time, small little movements with his fingers against her skin. She sighs, just enjoying the quiet comfort of him. 

Her eyes snap open, and she sits up abruptly. He startles at the sudden movement, hand jerking up from where it had been touching her. “You all right?”

She tries to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she moves on her knees, practically bouncing. This was brilliant, the perfect solution to the problem. 

“What if you take my virginity?” she asks, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

His resulting expression was worth the asking alone. His dark eyes widen, black eyebrows shooting up so high she can’t see them beneath the waves of his hair. “… excuse me?” 

“I haven’t been comfortable with anyone else,” she explains. “I’m comfortable with you, right? I’d be willing to do it with you.” 

“You’d be willing to do it with me.” His tone is flat - offended.

She reaches out to punch at his shoulder. “Not like that,” she assures. “No, but we’ll both get it over with, and then I can say yes and not be lying.”

He’s staring at her, in complete and utter shock. “I … why don’t you just ignore it? It won’t go on much longer. Maybe another week.” The tone of his voice is indiscernible. She raises an eyebrow at him, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you rejecting me?” she demands, raising an eyebrow. She’s not offended, honestly, but it’s funny to see him panic - always has been.

His eyes widen again, and he shakes his head. “God, no, Rey-“ He rakes a hand through his dark hair almost violently, looking away from her. “Rey … you’d be the only one of us, well, getting it over with.” 

She stares at him, the butterflies in her stomach hardening into lead. She feels them drop, one by one, like weights, until she feels sick. Ben’s … had sex? And she didn’t know about it? “What?” 

“It didn’t mean anything,” he’s quick to say. 

“When?” 

“17. For the first,” he explains with a wince. 

“Where?” 

“Back of my car.” 

Oh, God, Finn and Poe had sat back there. She asks the next, dreaded question. “Who?” 

“Some girl who seemed interested,” he explains quickly. “It didn’t mean anything, Rey. It was quick and awkward.” 

She’s silent for a moment, still sitting back on her feet as she stares at him and open curiosity. “You said that was the first,” she says slowly.

His hand rakes through his hair again. She can see the tops of his cheeks turning pink, the tips off his too-big ears flushing as well. He doesn’t look at her, instead finding his toes suddenly interesting. 

“Ben. How many girls have you slept with?” 

The answer’s muttered. She raises an eyebrow, leaning forward on her hands and knees towards him. “What?” she demands. “I didn’t hear you.” 

“Eleven,” he sighs. “Eleven, okay?” 

It’s, honestly, a lot more than she expected, and she stares at him. “Eleven?” 

“Don’t forget I’ve been here for three more years than you have,” he snaps. “So what if I’ve slept with a few people? It’s not like I was saving myself for someone. The opportunities came, and I took them, all right?” 

She’s silent, processing the information. Her brain feels like it’s buffering, restarting and powering up again after hearing his outburst. She stares openly at him before crawling back. She sits on her butt this time, tucking her knees into her chest as she turns her back to the wall. “… all right.” 

Like always, he realizes he’s done something wrong in a fraction of a second, and he’s crawling in front of her instantly. “Rey, look at me. Please.” 

She does. If he’s expecting her to hate him for sleeping with people and not telling her, then he’s wrong. She just stares at him, no emotion at all. She’s not exactly elated at learning the information, but she’s not about to go judging and loathing him either. She’s indifferent. So what if Ben’s slept with almost a dozen girls? It’s not like he’s hers, or anything. He’s his own person. She wouldn’t care if he’d slept with hundreds of girls, she tells herself. Though, the thought makes her wince, visibly, and Ben looks even more pained.

“… do you still want me to do it?” he questions. His voice is soft, his eyes questioning as he looks at her. 

She hesitates, tucking her knees closer to her. She shrugs, attempting to keep up the facade of indifference. “Only if you want to.” 

“I’d much rather it be me than some asshole who thinks that asking five days in a row is going to get him somewhere,” he says flatly, and she has to smile at that. “But it’s your virginity, after all.” 

“I told you,” she says. “I’m not saving myself for anyone. It’s not like it’s important to me.” It’s not a lie. She honestly doesn’t give a fuck. But the idea of sex suddenly has her blushing, hiding her face slightly in her knees. She’s kissed a handful of people before, even did some awkward petting with Finn (he’d confessed he’s gay two days after that catastrophic night). But she’s completely and utterly inexperienced aside from that. 

“But I’d like for you to tell me that you want this,” Ben tells her. She looks up and regrets it immediately. He’s close, a bit too close, eyes dark and trained on her and her only. He’s leaning forward, on his hands and knees in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat, and she nods. 

In a brazen display of faux confidence, she lets her legs fall to the sides and pulls her t-shirt up over her head, leaving her in her jeans and her plain black bra. She tosses it towards the floor, where one of her shoes is still lying, and watches as Ben’s eyes grow wide. “Fuck me.” 

He stares at her. And then cracks up. 

She blushes immediately, wishing the floor wasn’t so far so that she could grab her shirt and tug it back on. She watches, helplessly, as her asshole of a best friend laughs at her half-naked self. This was a horrible idea. She’d thought he’d be understanding, help her through it, but he’s just sitting and laughing at her. She slides off of the bed, hobbling with one shoe on and one shoe off as she reaches for her shirt that’s halfway across the room. 

She doesn’t even get two steps before she feels his hand on her bare waist. Her breath catches again, and she’s being spun around and tugged against his chest. 

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he mutters. 

“Yes, you were,” she insists. 

“Well, what are you supposed to do when your best friend tugs off her shirt and says ‘fuck me’!?” 

“Fuck her!” 

He snorts, pressing his nose into her hair. She calms slightly, skin tingling where his fingers are rubbing at her bare skin. His other hand moves around to settle on the other side of her waist. She’s enclosed in warmth, and leans against him gratefully. 

“I just figured we’d start with kissing before you started stripping,” he admits against the top of her head. 

“Oh.” 

Another chuckle. He pulls back, and she looks up at him. They have a significant height difference, a good 8 inches, and he has to bend down in order to kiss her. His hands are still on her waist, holding her to him as his lips press against hers. 

She remembers kissing Finn, in the middle school locker room during their school dance. It was quick and innocent, and they’d held hands for the rest of the night. She remembers kissing Poe, hard and fast against the lockers junior year. Her head had ached for hours afterwards where it had met the metal, and she’d had scratches on her cheeks from his stubble. She can’t exactly say that their kisses pale in comparison to Ben’s, but she does admit that Ben’s good. 

He keeps it light, and sweet, and she can tell he’s holding back on the tongue for her sake. It’s not until her hands loop around his neck and her lips move against his that he really goes into action, licking at her top lip and nipping at her bottom one a moment later. She lets him in, tasting the Coke he must’ve had on top of coffee and toothpaste. She pulls back after a moment, hand tangled in his long locks. She grins, fingers moving against his scalp.

“I have kissed before, you know,” she teases, pressing herself against him. He lifts his left hand to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek gently. 

“I didn’t know what level of experience I was dealing with,” he admits, his forehead pressed against hers. 

“Making out, and petting,” she clarifies. 

“Good to know,” he mutters before kissing her again. 

It’s awkward to be standing, and she suddenly wishes that she hadn’t gotten off of the bed. He seems to read her mind, spinning them so that her back is pressed against the side of the bed. She pouts slightly as he pulls away, and then yelps as he picks her up and puts her on the bed. He slips in between her spread legs, hands resuming their position on her waist. She kicks her remaining shoe off, hooking her feet around his thighs and tugging him even closer to her. 

“This all right?” he asks, breath against her lips. She nods wordlessly, moaning softly as he starts to kiss her again. 

She presses her bare skin against his, and rolls her hips against his as best as she can. She hears his breath hitch, and his hand snakes upward. She smirks against his lips at the small noise of confusion he makes when the clasp he’s looking for isn’t there. “Front clasp,” she explains, leaning back a bit. 

“Huh,” he says, clearly mystified by the idea as he stares down at the small mechanism settled between her breasts. He stares at it for a few moments, and she’s about to smack him upside the head and tell him to get on with it when he reaches forward and pops it open. The cups sit on top of her skin, not really revealing anything just yet, and he looks up at her. 

“Are you still all right with this?” he questions. In response, she shrugs her shoulders, letting the straps fall down. She shrugs out of the undergarment and holds it up, showing it to him before tossing it over his shoulder. She snorts as it hits the screen of his laptop, but loops her arms back around his neck. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he mutters, eyes now focused on her chest. She looks down as well. She knows she has a nice chest - most of the male population on campus this week had said so. But she finds herself suddenly worried that he doesn’t like it, that she’s too small for him or something like that. She has no idea what his type is, what any of those eleven girls had looked like. 

Her worries are assuaged as his hand comes up to cup her left breast, thumb running over her nipple. She frowns. Every romance novel or erotic fanfiction she’d read had told her that they were supposed to be sensitive, that she was supposed to arch into his touch. But instead it just felt awkward, and kind of ticklish. Not arousing at all. 

He tries again, watching her face, and again - she feels nothing. 

“Is it broken?” she suddenly asks, watching his thumb as it passes over her nipple for a third time. It’s still ticklish, still strange and awkward. 

He laughs then, shaking his head. “Different people, different turn-ons,” he explains, before he presses a kiss to her jaw. She hums softly. Now that - that’s nice. He makes his way down her neck. She moans softly as he suckles on where her collarbone juts out, arching into his mouth. That was a turn on, at least. Good to know. 

And then he kisses the top of her left breast, and she clenches her fingers against his shoulders. His mouth seals around her nipple, and he sucks while flicking his tongue against it. 

And there’s the arch that she read about. 

“Holy shit,” she breathes, fingers fisting in his shirt. That felt good. That felt really, really good, and her hand moves to cup the back of his neck, holding him there against her skin. She gasps as he chuckles, vibrations going through her skin. “Don’t do that!” 

He pulls away, eyes suddenly fearful. “What, did I hurt you?” 

“No,” she admits. “It just … felt weird, when you laughed.”

He snorts. “But did it feel bad?” 

“… no?” 

Ben bends again, latching onto her other breast and giving it the same treatment. Her fingers scrape against his scalp when he deliberately moans against her skin, and she finds herself wanting to both arch into his mouth and curl around him at the same time. She continues to run her fingers through his hair, almost fisting it as he sucks harder. She’s pretty sure the only other time her nipples were this hard was last semester’s fire drill in 20 degree weather at 2 in the morning, her bra abandoned and hanging on the back of her chair. Ben had kept her tucked into his chest for the sake of warmth and her dignity, and had walked her all the way back to her room so she wouldn’t flash anyone. 

She’s having trouble keeping her thoughts coherent when he releases her breast from his mouth with a soft ‘pop’. She watches, curious, as he grabs his chair and pulls it over, sitting on it. It puts him level with her legs, and she blinks down at him. The sight of him between her legs, with his face right there, makes her stomach flop and something below it warm awkwardly. 

He tugs at the hem of her jeans. “Do you mind, terribly?” he offers. 

“I’d prefer you take them off,” she admits, so quickly that it’s possible he missed it. 

He didn’t. He stands again, hands moving to her button. She lifts her hips as he undoes the zipper and tugs the denim down her legs. She helps him along, kicking her legs slightly until the fabric is off her feet and in his hands. He tosses the jeans to where her shirt is, before sitting on the chair and moving between her legs again. 

She wishes that she’d worn sexier underwear, something lace or somewhat sheer. But no, she’s stuck in her black boyshorts - probably the least sexy option she has in her entire drawer. She waits for Ben to say something, to comment, but he doesn’t. Instead his fingers find the edge of cotton on her thigh, playing with the fabric before he leans in to press a kiss to the inside of her knee. 

She’s read enough to know where this is going, and she moves her legs closed just the slightest bit. “I don’t know what’s down there,” she says, and she immediately blushes. Wow, okay, way to make herself sound like an uneducated middle schooler. 

He looks up at her, blinking in confusion. “… are you serious?” 

“It came out wrong,” she explains quickly. “I’m just wondering if you’re sure you want to, you know, do that.” 

He braces his hands against her thighs, thumbs stroking the tan skin there. She’s incredibly grateful she shaved her legs the day before. “Are you on your period?” 

“No.”  
“Do you bathe on a semi regular basis?” 

That earns him a snort and a smack upside the head. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Then you’re fine,” he says, flicking his head so that his hair is out of his face. “Want me to take them off, or would you rather do it?” 

She’d taken her shirt and bra off confidently, and had let him take her jeans off with a shred of self-assurance, but she’s hesitant to pull these off too. She nods at him. 

“… that doesn’t answer my question.” 

“You,” she says quietly, and then he’s standing again. She squeaks as his hands find her ass, tugging her flush against him. His lips find hers again, and she melts into him. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he mutters against her mouth. “I can stop, and you can get dressed again, and we can go get a burrito or something like that.” 

She pulls back to snort. “I’m fine,” she insists. But the fabric of his shirt against her bare skin has reminded her that they’re very uneven in levels of dress, and she tugs at the hem of his shirt. “But I want this off.” 

He obeys immediately, reaching down and pulling his shirt off in one fluid motion. She blinks, staring at the expanse of pale, muscled skin before her. 

“Holy shit.” 

He snorts. 

Her hands immediately go to his torso, feeling the taut muscle there. “You have a fucking EIGHT PACK!”

Ben outright laughs at that, his head falling to her shoulder as her hands continue to explore his body. “Do you want me to eat you out or not?” 

“Nuh uh, I just got my hands on you, let me explore for a moment,” she scolds. His skin’s warm beneath her fingers. She traces the ridges of his muscle, fingertips gently touching every freckle and beauty mark she finds. He’s covered in them, little constellations of dark brown standing out from his pale skin. She brushes her fingers against the trail of dark hair peaking out from his sweatpants, mouth suddenly dry. “So that leads-“ 

“To my cock, yes,” he says. “Which is currently very hard.” 

“I noticed.” The sweatpants don’t do much to hide his situation, and she feels a little thrill of pleasure at the fact that she’s the cause of it. She moves her hands back up, resting on his shoulders. She lifts her eyes to meet his again, smiling softly at her best friend. “Hi.” 

“Hello.” His hands are still on her ass, thumbs playing with the waistband of her panties. “So - on, or off?” 

“Off,” she decides. She uses his shoulders as leverage as she lifts her hips for him. He guides the fabric down and off, joining their quickly growing pile on the floor. 

And that’s it. She’s completely naked in front of her best friend. Her best friend who is currently staring at her in awe. She moves to close her legs, but forgets he’s between them, so she only succeeds in trapping him between her thighs. Shit. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks again. “It feels good, I promise.” 

She hesitates. “Maybe just touch me first?” she asks, after a moment, and he nods. She jumps when she feels his hand move up her thigh, large and warm. With his fingers spread, it covers almost the entirety of her leg, and she shivers when he gets closer to where only she’s touched. 

She experimented a bit, back in high school. But it had felt dirty, and forbidden, and so she’d stopped. To have someone else down there’s incredibly nerve-wracking, and she’s sure Ben’s going to have little crescent-shaped marks in his shoulders for the next few days. 

“Hey,” he mutters, and she looks up at him. He moves to kiss at her neck, soft little kisses against her skin. “It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you, all right?” 

She nods wordlessly, and instinctively bucks her hips away when his hand finds her cunt. He chases her, though, and she feels impossibly warm. She tilts her head back to give him more room, his lips trailing across her neck and shoulders as he strokes her. He parts her after a moment, and she bites her lip. It’s strange, incredibly so, but she likes it. She deals with the gentle petting for a few more moments before his thumb presses against something that has her gasping and jerking and bucking towards him. “The fuck?!” She’d never come across that before. 

He snorts, and brushes against it again. She breathes in sharply, pushing against his hand. “That’s your clit,” he explains, before he starts his relentless attack on the bundle of nerves. She clings to him, reaching down to grasp at the hand that isn’t between her legs. His fingers are big, his hand smooth, and she grips at it almost painfully as he continues to flick her clit with his thumb. He doesn’t dare enter her, not yet, but she can feel herself getting wetter. She’s not stupid - she knew it was going to happen. She’s read enough to know about the clit and getting wet and orgasming. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for it to happen. 

She cums over the course of one breath, sharp and unsteady. He holds her, guiding her through the sudden and frankly overwhelming wave of pleasure. She shakes, clinging to him needily and whimpering when his hand pulls back. “No-“ 

“I’m not leaving,” he assures her. He’s suddenly a few feet shorter, she realizes, now looking down at him between her legs. If possible, the sight turns her on even more. She leans back on her hands as best as she can. Everything’s still shaking, and she’s not entirely sure she can support herself quite yet. 

He pushes her knees apart and rolls further between her legs. He’s not quite at her cunt, so he grabs her calves and tugs her to the edge of the bed. She shrieks, and he grins up at her as she stares down at him in shock. He looks down at her cunt, and then back up at her red face.

“In case you were worried, it looks absolutely beautiful,” he tells her, and she wishes she had the strength to lean down and smack him. But she knows if she leans forward she’s bound to tumble, right into his lap. 

“Don’t say that,” she mutters. His hand returns, thumb running along her lips. 

“Why not?” he asks, and she shivers as he brushes her clit again. 

“Because it’s weird looking,” she admits. She’d looked at it in the mirror once, back when they had health class in school, and she hadn’t looked at it since. It wasn’t that she was self-conscious, not really. She just couldn’t see how anyone could find that attractive, much less pretty. 

“It’s perfectly normal looking, and I love it,” he says, and she opens her mouth to give some sort of snarky retort when he licks her. It’s long, and slow, and she finds herself grabbing the comforter beneath her in something akin to a death grip. He moves her legs so that they’re over his shoulder, and his hands move to hold her hips still as he licks her again. She bites her lip to prevent gasping out loud when he finds her clit again, pressing a soft kiss to it before flicking it with his tongue. 

She whimpers softly when he pulls back. She looks down to see him smirking between her legs. “It’s okay to make noise. No roommate, remember?” he tells her before he moves back to what he was doing. He sucks at her clit, then, and she bucks her hips against his hands and outright moans. 

She can feel him practically smirking against her cunt, but she doesn’t mind as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing. She moves her hand down to clutch at his hair - her new favorite past time, it seems - and she feels him groan against her as her nails scrape against his skin. She bucks up into the groan, gasping again. 

Again, her orgasm hits her like a freight train. She’s not used to it, not used to being able to judge when it’s about to go over, so she’s surprised when she arches against his mouth. He continues his pattern of sucking, licking and flicking until she pushes him away, feeling sensitive and overworked. “Holy shit…"

He grins at her and she tugs him up, kissing him fiercely. It’s strange and kind of gross, the way she can feel and taste herself on his lips, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when his arms are wrapping around her like this, strong and supportive of her shaking body. 

She can feel him pressed against her, and reaches around with her feet, toeing her socks off before pushing his pants down as best as she can with her heels. 

She snorts as the fabric gets caught on his cock. “Help?” 

He obliges, lips finding her shoulder for a quick kiss before he pulls the sweatpants down just enough. She pushes them down the rest of the way, and is suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn’t been wearing underwear underneath the sweatpants. She feels him, hot and heavy against her, and pushes him back so he can see. 

She stares down at his cock, flushed pink, dark compared to the rest of his skin. She’s not exactly innocent - she knows what they look like thanks to the internet, but she hadn’t expected the real thing to be so, well, big. She looks between him and her, wondering how the hell it was supposed to fit. He watches her, smiling softly. 

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” he insists. “I can go take a cold shower or something.” 

“But I want to.” Her hand reaches out and she grabs it. She takes pleasure in his soft gasp. She runs her thumb curiously over the skin, marveling at its softness. It was hard, yeah, but it wasn’t as hard as she’d been expecting it to be. She runs her thumb along the underside of it, following the vein there, and he moans and bucks his hips into her hand. 

“Rey, stop,” he warns. “Not going to last if you keep doing that.” 

She blinks at him, stopping her experimenting. “What?” 

“You have no idea how turned on I am for you right now. So either you make me cum in your hand, or I put a condom on and we do that,” he warns. “Whichever you’d prefer.” 

She hesitates, looking back down at his cock in her hand. She runs her thumb over the head once more, before glancing up at him. “You have a condom…?”  
He’s out of her space in what seems like an instant, moving to his bedside table. She gets a glorious view of his ass as he bends over, and she leans back a bit to admire the view. She smiles softly, then startles a bit as the unexpected but not entirely unwelcome thought of ‘mine’ crosses her mind. 

He returns to her side, small packet in his hand. She opens her mouth to offer to put it on when suddenly her lips are covered by his. She lets her eyes slip closed, hand moving to cup the back of his neck as he hoists himself over the side of the bed to move over her. It’s not exactly elegant or graceful in anyway, but he manages. She kisses him back as best as she can, suddenly scared by the way he’s kissing her slowly and sweetly. 

He pulls back to nuzzle against her neck, moving up so that his nose is pressed to her temple. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice low and rough. She shudders, hand curling against the soft hairs along the back of his neck. She nods wordlessly. 

“I need you to say it, Rey,” he mutters. 

She turns to press a kiss to her cheek. “Yes, I want this, Ben.” It’s the first time she’s said his name since they’ve started, and it feels a lot heavier than she would’ve expected. 

Satisfied with her answer, he nods. She hears the sound of foil tearing, and then there’s something warm nudging against her entrance. She realizes, belatedly, that it’s way too small to be his cock, and is instead his finger. She clutches at his shoulders as he slips inside, expecting some pain of some sort. When none comes, she sighs softly. 

“Good?” he asks. She nods. It feels strange, not pleasurable yet. But she’s read enough to know it’s coming. 

The second slides into her without much resistance. It still twinges slightly, but it’s not awful. She feels herself stretching around him. When she’d tried to experiment, it had hurt, and felt strange. This still feels strange as hell, but at least it doesn’t hurt too badly. She bucks her hips up when he starts to pump his fingers, curling against her walls. She waits for that spark, that g-spot she’s heard so much about, but it doesn’t come. She almost pouts, opens her mouth to ask him if that was a myth, when he plunges deeper and then she does feel it. She makes a sound akin to choking, fingers scratching against the pale expanse of his back. He takes the sound as a good sign and continues until she’s right at the edge, scrambling for purchase along his broad shoulders.  
When he pulls them out, she outright whimpers, nails digging into his skin. “Why’d you stop?” she asks, rolling her hips beneath him in an attempt to get him back. 

“Because you’re prepped enough,” he tells her, and she feels something much bigger and much hotter between her legs, bumping up against her entrance. She breathes in sharply, pulling him closer to her. 

“Tell me when to go,” he says, and she laughs, a bit brokenly. 

“If we waited for that, you’d never be inside me,” she admits. “Just … do it.” 

He kisses her again as he pushes forward, before moving to kiss her cheek. She can feel a little resistance, just from the fact that he was big, but then he’s in and sliding forward and she’s gasping for air against his lips. It hurts, slightly, a kind of pleasureful-painful twinge that comes from something foreign being up there. But she gets over it quickly. It’s not until a few moments later that she realizes that he’s breathing heavily against her neck, head bowed and hips still. 

He’s waiting for her. 

She taps at his shoulder, before stroking the skin gently. “Hey. You can move, if you want.” 

“It doesn’t hurt?” 

“Not really,” she admits. Her hand finds his hair again, and she pulls it so that he’s facing her. “I mean, it’s weird, and I feel … full, I guess, but it’s not bad.”  
He snorts, and she can see the blush that’s threatening to take over his cheeks and his too-big ears. “Not bad?” 

“I’ll tell you if it’s fucking fantastic or not when you start moving.” 

“Point taken.” 

And move he does. She clings to his shoulders, pressing her lips up against his as he starts to move his hips. She tries to move hers with his, but eventually just lets him take the lead. She honestly has no idea what she’s doing, so she just holds onto him as he sets the pace for them. It’s not long before it becomes pleasurable, and she lifts her legs to hook them around his waist. They both moan, her gasping against his lips as the angle changes and he goes deeper. It’s overwhelming, and she pants against his mouth as he starts to go harder, faster, more urgently. 

He’s going to cum, and soon, she realizes as his kissing becomes more frantic. She’s not entirely sure if what they’re doing can be called kissing anymore, brushes of lips mixed with teeth and saliva and curse words. She finds she kind of likes it, tugging him down to her as he rolls his hips. She moans and bucks and feels that building up of pressure again. 

She gasps softly as he freezes up, hips slowing. There’s heat inside of her, and she strokes his hair as he shudders against her. “Oh, God, Rey,” he breathes, and she smiles up at him even as he presses his face to her shoulder, embarrassed. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” she assures him. She plays with one wayward wave, twirling the dark strand of hair around her fingers and tugging ever so slightly. “It’s not like we’re in some Irish-Scottish romance novel where we cum at the exact same time because of our emotional connection to each other.” The idea actually makes him snort, and she feels the sharp exhale of breath against her collarbone. 

“Still,” he admits. “I thought I’d last longer.” 

“I don’t exactly have a base of times to go off of,” she reminds him. “Lasted pretty long for me.” 

He moves so that he’s looking at her, supporting himself above her by his hands. “You didn’t cum.” 

“I’ve cum twice this afternoon,” she informs him. She also makes a mental note to ask him what conditioner he’s been using. His hair falls in his face, and she rakes her hand through it to push it back. He’s close enough that she can count the sprinkling of freckles across his skin. “I’m fine, really.” 

Despite her words, she can feel his hips rocking again. His hand sneaks back down to where they’re joined, and her hips buck almost wildly as his thumb finds her clit again. 

“I said I’m fine!” Her eyes widen as her voice shoots up an octave or two on ‘fine’, and she can see his smirk as he continues despite her words.

“Still,” he says, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. “I want to feel you cum around me.” 

She shudders. His voice is deep, and dulcet, and damn if it doesn’t turn her back on. She moves the hand that isn’t in his hair down to his back, feeling his muscles move as he thrusts his hips forward again. She keens up against him as he continues to abuse her clit, and this time when she cums, she’s ready for it. She feels the build up and gasps audibly as she crests. He’s right there to catch her, thumb and hips slowing and lips pressing themselves to her temple. 

She’s breathing heavily, chest heaving beneath his as he bends to kiss her. She accepts it gratefully, pulling him flush against her. All too soon he pulls away, slipping out. She makes a face at the feeling, sitting up to watch him as he disposes of the condom. He returns to lean forward on the bed, standing beside it and gazing at her. 

“I hate to tell you this, but you might want to pee soon,” he informs her. She blinks at him, confused. 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “I heard it prevents UTIs if girls pee right after sex.” 

She groans, flopping over onto her stomach. “Really? I don’t think I can walk right now,” she admits. “So much for after-sex cuddles, then.” 

“Those can still happen,” he informs her. “After you pee.” 

“Fine, fine, Dr. Solo,” she teases, sitting up and sliding off of the bed. She was right before. It’s a bit hard to walk, her legs shaky and unreliable. She feels his hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the bathroom. Once she’s finished, she emerges and finds him sprawled on the bed on his back, still completely naked. She climbs up next to him, and he scoots over so that he’s almost pressed against the wall. She settles next to him on her stomach, gazing at him.  
“So - what’d you think of sex?” he asks, turning to look at her. 

She offers him a smile, leaning forward to rest her chin on his chest. “I don’t know. I might need to try it a few more times to get a good reading.”  
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, really?” 

“Really.” Her hand finds his stomach, fingers walking up his abs. “But not today. I’m done for today.” He hums and leans over. And then he stops, hesitating. She frowns at him. “What?” 

“Not sure if kissing is allowed when not in a virginity-losing scenario,” he admits quietly, and she feels warmth blossom. This time it’s not between her legs, and instead behind her breasts. She smiles and leans forward, pressing her lips to his sweetly. 

“Definitely allowed,” she mutters against her mouth, and she feels more than hears his sigh of relief as his hand moves around to cup the back of her neck.  
He pulls back after a moment, hand moving to her bare waist and pulling her body closer to his. “… do I even want to ask what this makes us?”  
“Best friends with benefits?” she offers, leaning on him. 

“… and if I’d like for it to be more?”

She blinks at him. “Like … dates, and flowers, and stuff?” 

“That’s what ‘more’ typically includes, yes.” 

She hesitates, frozen on his chest. He’s looking at her expectantly, and she bites her lip as she thinks the idea over. Dating Ben. Dating Ben the senior, holding hands as they walk through the quad and sitting together in a booth at the campus diner and sharing smoothies from the smoothie shop and potentially getting flowers in her mailbox on the off day. 

The idea isn’t awful. In fact, it’s a not-half-bad-at-all-idea.

“More it is,” she decides, and then she’s swept into a kiss that takes her breath away and makes her heart skip a beat. She laughs against his mouth as he pulls her so that she’s flush against him, body still hot and slightly sticky from their previous activities. 

More sounds pretty damn good, actually.


End file.
